


the second left, then the first right

by sirisusblack



Series: far too young to die [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Afterlife, Death Eaters, Fix-It, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-12
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:48:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24687922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirisusblack/pseuds/sirisusblack
Summary: Several Death Eaters throw a surprise party for Harry Potter in King's Cross.It kind of snowballs from there.
Relationships: Bartemius Crouch Jr. & Evan Rosier, Regulus Black & Bartemius Crouch Jr., Regulus Black & Evan Rosier, Regulus Black & Harry Potter, Regulus Black & Sirius Black
Series: far too young to die [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1873117
Comments: 72
Kudos: 221





	1. Chapter 1

It _is_ quicker and easier than falling asleep.

Harry throws himself on the pristine floor with a sigh, his bones melting with exhaustion, and shuts his eyes to give himself a moment to take it in.

He is _dead_.

It is less cluttered than he would’ve expected, if he’d actually mulled over it. Pretty quiet too, if you ignored the pathetic whimpering of, well, a part of Voldemort’s soul. Harry pities it, more than anything. He wouldn’t mind putting an end to it’s misery but he doesn’t know if you can kill an already dead thing.

He takes a deep breath, the air so fresh that he feels dizzy with all the oxygen flooding his brain.

Someone clears his throat, very politely. 

Harry’s eyes flutter open, not in a rush, he’s dead after all. What are they going to do, kill him?

He jumps in the air as soon as his gaze falls upon the man. “Where am I?” he demands, his whole body tense and ready to bolt.

“Potter,” Barty Crouch Jr snaps, with pastel pink milkshake in his hand that clashes horribly with his bright yellow trunks, dotted with little hearts that go off into rainbows. “You have not grown smarter since I last saw you.”

“Don’t bully the boy,” someone else says behind him in a bored tone and Harry spins around to find an eerily familiar stranger, blonde and pale, sitting on a chair that looked to be ancient.

Harry bets he is a Malfoy.

“Evan Rosier,” the man introduces himself. Harry feels his mouth fall open in shock before he shuts it with a click. He rakes a hand through his hair, his chest heaving for air.

He nods curtly in acknowledgement, his jaw clenched but Rosier doesn’t seem bothered by his hostility. He fixes the sleeves of his sharp suit before he settles comfortably in his chair, his body more muscular than any wizard’s he’s seen, but it looks disproportionate with his rather small head and pointy features.

He takes out an ornate cigarette case, and takes a fag out. Their eyes meet as he lights it up with a Muggle lighter. His mouth twitches, a joke he’s not a part of, and he stretches out the case in an offer. Harry shakes his head, dumbfounded. He shifts his weight and his eyes sweep around for an escape route.

Harry thinks he’s maybe on some kind of fucked up drug when Barty Crouch takes him on his offer, and leans in to light his own with Rosier’s already lit one.

Evan Rosier inhales a long breath from his cigarette, pocketing the case and stares at Harry with narrowed eyes. “You look your father, but with-“

Harry cuts him off. “You look like Draco Malfoy.”

Barty Crouch shrieks in delight, spilling his drink on his bare chest. He leans in to Harry and whispers conspiratorially, “I’ve been trying to get him to confess since I came here.”

Rosier doesn’t seem ruffled, giving Harry a long suffering look. “That’s nasty, considering Narcissa is my cousin.”

“That would explain why the boy is the way he is,” Barty says flatly but turns to wink at Harry.

Harry nods because he doesn’t know what else to do.

A whimper from Voldemort cuts their fairly one sided conversation.

“What’s that?” Barty Crouch asks curiously, peering at it with critical eyes. Rosier follows their line of sight and promptly balks, taking another long drag with trembling fingers. He tosses his head back and closes his eyes, as if it will disappear if he doesn’t acknowledge it.

Harry scratches the back of his head. “Ugh,” he starts, a flare of annoyance whirling in his chest and Crouch turns to him sharply, impatiently. He looks so young, his freckled nose crinkled as he stares up at Harry, looking way too innocent considering who he is.

“That’s the Dark Lord,” someone pops in, his accent extraordinarily posh, a bit haughty and so fucking familiar that Harry half expects to see Sirius.

He appraises the man –the boy, really. He looks stuffed in the high collared shirt he’s put on and Harry can’t imagine Sirius ever wearing something like that but it suits him. There are faint scars around his jaw and over his nose but overall, he looks completely healthy.

They all look healthy and young, Harry realises with a jolt.

Regulus Black nods at him, a small, almost shy smile curving his lips. He looks much more approachable than the guy from the photo Slughorn showed him.

Harry lets himself return the smile.

Barty Crouch frowns, regarding the creature with contempt. “I don’t get it,” he declares in the end.

“Which part do you not get?” Regulus Black drawls, leaning onto a column that comes out of nowhere, his already handsome features becoming more pronounced with his apparent smugness. “That’s what happens when you make a Horcrux.”

Crouch rolls his eyes, sending an exasperated look at Harry like they are old friends. He lays back down, his interest dissolving like it came. “Spare me the lecture, Reg.”

“That’s why it’s so frowned upon,” Regulus ignores him, cheeks colouring with satisfaction, like he’s savouring seeing Voldemort like this. “You ruin your afterlife for a chance to stay in a world that is far less pleasant than here.”

Evan Rosier makes a high pitched sound in the back of his throat. Harry finds it quite odd coming from that man but the other two seem unruffled. “I can’t believe he fell for that.”

The other two nod seriously.

“I’m so glad I died,” Barty Crouch yawns, slipping his sunglasses from the top of his head to his eyes. “I fucking love this place.”

Harry clears his throat, and hesitantly asks, “So what do you guys do around here?” He immediately winces as it leaves his mouth but Barty Crouch jumps into an explanation before he can blush.

“Nothing new really,” he says, slurping the last of his milkshake. “We work nine to five, because we’re Death Eaters,” he says matter-of-factly, “I’m on weekend shift too, until I make amends with everyone who got upset by Cedric Diggory’s death.”

He doesn’t look too bothered, Harry notes.

“Right,” he mumbles, just to say something and Regulus laughs beside him, a light and friendly sound, the only one who seemed to be aware of his unease.

“I work as an assistant manager in a Muggle market,” Evan Rosier adds, “everything is so _tasteless._ ”

“He gets paid minimum wage,” Regulus addresses Harry, flashing a white toothed smile and Harry struggles to match this boy with the one he thought he knew. He fails to return the smile and Regulus’ smile dims, averting his gaze back to the floor. He bits down on his lips, a grimace on his face like he wants to take back the last five minutes.

“He asks Daddy for money,” Crouch jeers, his tongue peeking out in that tick of his before he shakes with a full body shiver.

Rosier shrugs. “It’s not that bad. Lots of time to think.”

“He’s been doing that for the last twenty years but still not one original thought to show for it,” Crouch says crisply but it comes off as more playful than biting with the smile on his face.

“What about you?” he asks Regulus, trying to steer the conversation from them and wanting to clear that expression on his face.

Regulus’ face wrinkles in displeasure, and he shifts restlessly. “My shift is from nine to one, because I defected before I died.”

Evan Rosier smirks, “Ask him where he’s working Harry.”

Harry arches one eyebrow and waits. Regulus puffs his cheeks and mutters something incorrigible.

“Repeat that please,” Barty presses.

Regulus shoots a warning glare at them but he smoothens his face when he turns to Harry. “I stay with your father and Sirius.”

Harry is deeply confused and voices it, “How is that a punishment?”

“Nothing is a punishment,” Evan Rosier says in a high pitched voice, clearly an imitation of a woman, “everything is a chance for us to _learn and grow_.”

“They mock me all the time and I have to sit on a plastic chair when Sirius gets the sofa,” Regulus complains, his face flushing and he blinks furiously as if he’s keeping the tears at bay.

Harry lets out a hysterical laugh. It’s weird to see someone so uncomfortable with something he’d been yearning for years.

“The worst part is that they actually have to agree to be a part of this _reformation project_.”

Harry can see why that bothers him and gives him an encouraging smile. “But it’s not for too long, is it?”

“I suppose,” Regulus mutters, kicking the floor with the tip of his boots. “It’s just…” he cuts himself off, clawing at his collar until a button pops open, revealing angrier looking scars, “it always gets worse after family dinners.”

“Family dinners,” Harry repeats faintly.

Crouch and Rosier nod vehemently, suddenly interested with the conversation.

“They’re the worst,” Crouch announces firmly, “Father is furious I transfigured him into a bone more so than that I killed him. And my mum is furious at my father for keeping me under Imperius.” He stops to take a big breath, his neck contorting to the side in a jerky motion like he wants to chase away a thought. His lips turn downwards in a sneer, “And I’m furious at myself for not prolonging his death.”

Harry freezes down to his bones at his apathetic tone. He reprimands himself for letting his guard down around _fucking Death Eaters_.

His eyes meet Regulus’ and his skin prickles at the sight of his knowing gaze.

“Father is furious we can’t dine in Grimmauld Place,” he offers mildly, and Harry lets out a relieved exhale to hear a relatively reasonable cause for fury. Of course, it goes downhill from there. “Sirius still gets mad at all of us _for everything_ and Mother is furious with all of us for abandoning her.”

“And you?” Harry prompts in a small voice. It is by far the most bizarre day of his life. _Existence_.

Regulus’ hard expression melts into something mischievous and he grins at Harry. “I’m delighted that Sirius can’t run away, no matter how much Mother reprimands him and that drives Sirius up the wall,” he says gleefully.

“I thought you didn’t like spending time with him,” Harry reminds him, sarcasm creeping into his tone.

Regulus shrugs, a sheepish smile crossing his face for a second, “I don’t particularly enjoy it, true, but at least I see him, don’t I?”

For some reason, that makes Harry ache with longing.

When their eyes meet, Harry feels a strange kinship form between them, because Regulus Black _understands_ him.

“My father is furious at me for _dying_ ,” Rosier tells to no one in particular, bewildered. Harry thinks fifteen years is too long to hold on to a single argument. It’s obvious Rosier’s still taken aback –hurt- by this and there is a tangible anger brewing under it. “He blames me because apparently we became a pro-Mudblood family –“

He groans and slaps his head to his forehead. Barty cackles, “M word is an extra shift.”

“We get a cookie when we say muggleborn instead of the M word,” Regulus interjects, walking past Harry to sit gingerly next to Crouch, who makes space for him without a word. “But only if you do it unconsciously, somehow they always know when you do it to get a cookie. Sirius –or your father- don’t get cookies though, since they weren’t used to saying Mudblood in the-“ he stops and sighs dejectedly. Barty pats him on the knee.

“Barty never gets extra shifts, he’s always more careful than us,” Regulus says, with a crooked smile at Crouch and Crouch beams, then regards Regulus with a shrewd expression.

“I’ve always thought you do it on purpose,” he mumbles, looking up at him under his lashes innocently.

Regulus stills, his head snapping back to him. “Don’t be absurd,” he snarls, but the effect is lost when he blushes crimson. Harry suppresses a laugh when lays back, entwining his fingers on his stomach primly, digging his elbow into Crouch’s ribs in warning.

Rosier continues with a scowl, not having paid attention to their conversation, eyes fixed on a distant point. “I was killed by Alastor Moody and he was the most successful Auror at the time,” he grumbles and takes out a box from an inside pocket, he turns it around a few times and a knot ties itself tight in Harry’s stomach.

“Don’t worry, I tormented him to avenge you,” Crouch assures his friend.

Rosier shakes the box pointedly, and presses on, ignoring Crouch’s attempt at placating him. “I’ve even got a piece of his nose.”

It’s like a punch in the stomach, his dismissiveness and coldness, and Harry wishes fiercely he could put a few nasty spells on him.

Rosier apologises quickly. “Sorry, I always forget,” he shakes his head like he can’t believe himself. Harry is slightly mollified for the tiniest stretch of time before the illusion shatters again. “Do you want to see it?”

“No,” Harry snaps, and takes a step back to compose himself. Evan Rosier is clearly confused but not offended by his reaction. Regulus and Crouch look like they are both on the verge of a laugh.

“Why do you keep it?” Harry demands with a stern tone, hands on his hips. They’re almost seeing eye to eye, despite Rosier sitting down on his ridiculous chair. He eyes Harry like he’s the stupid one.

“To give it back to him, of course,” he drags out the syllables.

Harry stares at the bloke for a few moments before decides to give up his usual ethical codes, and he asks, “Why?”

“He did me a favour, you see, by killing me. Or I would’ve turned out to be like him,” he gestures Crouch who simply giggles.

“Well,” he ignores their banter, his voice dripping with sarcasm, “he’s already dead, so maybe put more effort into finding him.”

Rosier’s brows shoot up and he shares a look with Crouch. When he turns back to Harry, his face is serious. “I’ll do that. Thank you.”

Harry scowls harder.

“I see not even dying can put a stop to your slacking, Potter.”

Harry freezes. He reluctantly turns back with small steps, his heart dropping.

It might be true that Harry’s feelings towards his former Professor has changed, but apparently Snape still hates him, going by the expression on his face.

“Hullo, Snape,” Crouch greets him, his wave more mocking than it has any the right to be. But Snape only gives him a distracted wave back, his narrowed eyes focused on Regulus, Harry momentarily forgotten.

Regulus, on the other hand, is utterly dismissive and uninterested.

He _literally_ examines his fingernails.

Harry bites down on his lips to not laugh, watching Regulus cross his legs when he’s done with his nails, taking the empty milkshake bottle from the floor and shaking it before putting it back down. Crouch puts his head on Regulus’ shoulder with a big shit eating grin, his gaze hopping between the two.

Snape’s dislike of Blacks is clearly not limited to his godfather and it’s hilariously _mutual_.

Snape wrenches his glare away from Regulus and pins it on Harry, whose grin falters. He chews inside his cheek to hide his grin but he fails, and gives up quickly.

“Potter,” Snape barks out, folding his arms across his chest, “You’re not supposed to dawdle around here.”

That effectively erases his smile and he frowns at his professor. “Excuse me?”

“Excuse you –” Snape blurts, cutting himself off, gritting his teeth. He narrows his eyes until they become mere slits. “Are you daft, boy?”

“Watch it!” comes from Evan Rosier, much to his shock.

Snape regards Rosier like he’s only now seeing him, which is probably exactly what’s happening. He doesn’t deign with an answer.

“Potter,” he hisses, the muscle next to his mouth twitching dangerously and Harry has to remind himself he can’t take points off Gryffindor here. “You need to get back. That’s the whole point. The Dark Lord is still alive.”

As if on a cue, the creature reappears next to Snape’s feet and Snape recoils, a genuine shock taking over his face.

“The _fuck_?” he mutters -the word sounding foreign to Harry on his tongue- forgetting his audience as he scrutinises it.

“That’s why it is so frowned –” Regulus starts, evoking an unhinged laugh from Harry. He’s such a brat, Harry thinks fondly, the thought startling him.

“Shut it,” Crouch orders, his hand firmly on Regulus’ mouth. Then he diverts his attention to Snape, “What do you mean he needs to leave? _How_ can he leave in the first place?”

“He’s not dead _in the first place_ ,” Snape grits out, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“He failed _again_?” Crouch exclaims, elbowing Regulus to get a reaction out of him but Regulus shies away, throwing a helpless and horrified look at Harry.

“Exactly how many times did he try to kill you Potter?” Crouch asks shrilly but doesn’t seem to be waiting for an answer. “I literally sent Potter into his arms to be murdered, like a present with a bow on top, no offense Potter –”

“None taken.”

“- honestly how did we get sucked into that incompetence?” he pauses his tirade, turning to Regulus with desperate eyes, “Reg, are we stupid?”

Regulus’ lips twitch, “Well, I did defect before-“

“Oh, fucking hell,” Crouch drowns out his voice. “I’m having a crisis here, show some respect.”

“Enough,” Snape bellows, and they all fall silent. “Potter, take the second left, then first right. You’ve wasted enough time as it is.”

“Oh,” Evan Rosier sighs, “so he really has to go?”

“You’ll see him in a few decades, Rosier,” Crouch assures his friend, even though he’s still frowning at Voldemort’s failure to kill him. Harry feels somewhat grateful that he assumes that Voldemort will fail again.

“Take care, Harry,” Regulus says in a quiet voice, a sad but warm smile on his face.

Harry’s face stretches into a smile as well, easily, and Snape snorts beside him. “I can not believe - you already got attached. Potter, leave, now!”

Harry nods, his stomach twisting – _what the fuck is wrong with him, why is he sad to leave them_ \- and with a quick goodbye and one last look at them, he turns to walk away.

“Don’t worry too much about getting killed,” Evan Rosier calls behind him, “It’s so much better here.”

Harry bows his head down. He’s smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you'd like a look at regulus' (fairly short) life this is the part 2 of this series!  
> [goner](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25805059)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regulus Black accompanies Severus Snape to Potter household.

They watch as _The Saviour of The Magical Britain_ –the name provokes Potter like nothing else- takes the second left without any words spent between them. The atmosphere is far more strained than it was when it was Harry with them instead of Snape.

Regulus keeps his eyes trained on the corner of the street Harry disappeared into, letting Barty’s chatter fade into background. His mood went downhill the second he set his eyes on Harry Potter, his heart twisting for the boy who died at eighteen like himself, no doubt leaving dozens of people who’d be devastated for his death.

He heaves a deep breath, the pressure inside his chest loosening to know he has a chance to go back.

Though it’s disturbing to think about ‘ _how’._

He hopes it’s not bloody Horcruxes again, but he shakes the idea off just as it comes.

The boy was undoubtedly whole.

He needs to keep this doubts to himself with his brother if he wants to survive the next few days with him. The last few months had been hell with Sirius and Potter. They were always walking around the small cottage, ready to snap at anyone but each other. Since they couldn’t snap at Evans, Regulus took the brunt of it.

He leaves the relative safety of his own head when Barty twists skin of his neck. He swats at it, turning his glare on his friend.

“I can’t take both of you brooding,” he says with arched brows, “Snap out of it.”

Regulus leans over Barty to look at Evan, who seems genuinely upset that Harry had to leave. “You alright there mate?”

Evan sniffs, “I thought we were getting a new friend.”

“He’ll come back eventually,” Regulus says, ever the voice of reason, “let the bloke live his life.”

Evan keeps pouting and he shares an amused look with Barty. “Are you bored with us, by any chance?” Barty asks.

Evan shrugs, “No offense mate but I think we’ve talked about everything we could talk about in the last fifteen years,” he tells Regulus.

Regulus smirks, arching one eyebrow. “Well, why don’t you make friends with this guy here?” he gestures towards Snape. “He looks like he could use one.”

“No wonder you were found lacking when you were compared to your brother, if this is your idea of quality insult,” he drawls, drawing his arms closer to his chest.

Regulus thinks his answer is way too nasty compared to his own words, which could easily be interpreted as nice, but a thrill washes over his body at the chance to be mean to someone.

Extra shifts be damned. He’d been playing the nice guy for so long.

You do not born into The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black as the spare son, live as Sirius Black’s little brother, join the Death Eaters and give two fingers to Dark Lord and get out without a mean streak.

“Yeah but they compare me to _him_ ,” Regulus sniggers, “I vaguely recall who you were compared to.”

He mouths ‘Avery’.

“It doesn’t surprise me to hear the biggest accomplishment of a boy who got offed for getting cold feet is being compared to his big, Gryffindor brother,” he responds, not bothered in the slightest.

Regulus narrows his gaze, aware of the sudden shift in Barty and Evan but he refrains from defending himself. He won’t give Snape the satisfaction of getting under his skin.

He pointedly adjusts his trousers over his crotch, immensely enjoying the extreme discomfort flittering across Snape’s face when his gaze drops to where his hand lays for a moment.

“At least I haven’t spent my last twenty years chafing my right hand bloody raw wanking over Lily _Potter_ ,” he says with a pleasant smile and he leans back in satisfaction when Evan dissolves into giggles and all blood leaves Snape’s face.

“Yeah, we know all about that,” Barty stretches the words.

“It’s not a big deal, really,” Evan cuts in with a straight face, looking neutral as ever before he drops the bomb on him, “I doubt anyone would willingly watch you masturbate. I certainly changed it every time it came up.”

“Lily certainly didn’t watch it,” Regulus adds, jumping a little when his cell rings. He takes it out of his pocket, resigned to his fate.

REGULUS ARCTURUS BLACK: EXTRA SEVEN NIGHT SHIFTS WITH JAMES POTTER AND SIRIUS ORION BLACK.

“Bloody hell,” he mumbles. At least Sirius will enjoy this story if he can get over having to spend seven extra nights with Regulus.

“We’re just joking,” Barty rolls his eyes when he spots Snape still frozen like a statue. “We don’t see anything from down there. We get all news from newbies.”

Snape’s shoulders slowly drop and he gives Barty a withering look, his face still pale as a ghost before he takes out his own chiming cell. He stares at the screen so long that Barty intervenes. “I could read it for you if you forgot how to.”

“Black is to accompany me to Potter household in fifteen minutes.”

Regulus throws his arms in the air, looking at his friends for support. They give him identical sheepish smiles.

“I’d offer to come with you, but…” Barty shrugs. “I honestly don’t appreciate getting stabbed with a fork again.”

“That was so rude,” Evan adds. Regulus snorts at the memory, Barty shrieking as he tried to get to the door before Lily could get him.

“So that’s your punishment? Potter household?”

Snape lifts a shoulder in uncertainty. “They are holding court right now.”

“I wouldn’t hope for much,” Evan warns him, “Death Eaters have a bad reputation here. Even Reg got twenty years.”

“I got sixty three years for bullying the kids in my last year,” Barty says, the fucking liar. He got forty.

Neither Evan nor Regulus correct him.

Snape shifts restlessly, as if he’s regretting all those years as a teacher.

“You’re going to get so much for Longbottom,” Barty mutters so quietly that he only hears because he’s right beside him.

But Snape hears him anyway.

“How much did you get for _Longbottoms_?”

Barty’s eyes, solemn, bright, so young, lift to stare at him. For a long second, Regulus thinks he might burst into tears.

Regulus suddenly feels like he’s being tugged into thousand different directions, sticky, wet hands all over his body; on his neck, digging until they reach his pharynx, on his flank, wrenching his guts out, on his face, sinking until his eyes explode, ripping his hair out.

He pulls himself to his feet, ignoring the sharp gaze of Snape.

It is a touchy subject for all of them. He is still not sure he believes Barty when he says he and Rabastan didn’t cast Crucio on the Longbottoms, and that was all Bellatrix and Rodolphus.

Regulus is lucky to have died young, before he could get sucked in too deep in Dark Lord’s missions.

There are things you can’t atone for for all eternity.

A heavy hand falls on his shoulder and he stiffens right before he relaxes his body on purpose. He gives Evan a smile he hopes looks sincere enough but Evan only shakes his head.

He drops the act. They’ve been here together for so long, shared so many secrets that it feels like a betrayal trying to hide what he’s thinking now.

“Will it ever get better?” he whispers, blinking against the prickling in his eyes. Evan regards him carefully, turning the box in his hands. “It will,” he declares, and Regulus purses his lips in thought.

“How so?”

“The Dark Lord will fall one way or another,” he says, eyes trained on the floor, “Then we’ll have to work through everyone one by one. It only seems impossible because he’s still lurking around.”

Regulus’ lips curl up in a small smile. “Spoken like a true Slytherin.”

Evan snorts, shrugging. “I mean, even Evans forgave me. I don’t think others will challenge me that much.”

“I wish…” he whispers, “I wish it wasn’t so hard. I’m so fucking tired.” He swallows around the lump in his throat, risking a glance at Evan, who’s scowling.

“Is your brother giving you hard time again?”

“Why? Are you going to beat him up again?”

Evan looks at him pointedly. Regulus feels his heart lift, and lets out a chuckle. “Nah, not really. Not since Dumbledore came, at least. But they’ve been stressed for Harry.”

He doesn’t tell him about the silent treatment when his suicide mission came to light. He truly did not expect his brother to be this insulted he did not go to him for help.

It helps him sleep better at night. He hopes it helps Sirius too.

“Shit, Reg, please don’t cry,” Evan crowds into him, blocking Snape’s and Barty’s views. He looks frantic, his arms halfway in the air as if he’s not sure if he should hug him or not. Regulus laughs at the absurd image and pats him on the shoulder. He wipes the tears away hastily, and Evan slowly relaxes as more seconds pass without him sobbing.

“I’m going crack his skull open,” he declares while he watches Regulus take deep, calming breaths. Regulus slaps a hand over his face and shakes his head vehemently, gripping his arm. “No, it’s just…”

“What, Reg?” he cuts him off with a stern voice, looking unimpressed. His biceps bulge when he crosses his arms in front of his chest. Regulus makes a distinct mental note to visit the gym more often. “You’ve been fine before he came. Now you’re on the brink of a panic attack every single day.”

Regulus closes his eyes, the image of Inferi swimming before him. He tries to inhale through his nose but it gets stuck in his throat and his mouth opens in a wheeze. Evan closes the few space between them and Regulus doesn’t struggle when his arms come up around his shoulder.

He mumbles into his shoulder.

Evan pushes him away with hands pressing down on his shoulders until they can see each other‘s faces. “What?”

Regulus swallows, averting his gaze. “I said I feel indebted to him.”

Evan’s brows shoot up. “What for?”

“I think I’d feel more comfortable if he continued being an arsehole,” he confesses.

Evan gives out a exhale, his eyes disappearing into his skull. He drops his hands. “There’s something wrong with your head,” he taps his own temple.

Regulus scoffs, _no shit_ , but drops the subject when Barty waves them over.

“You’re going to be late,” he says, not a trace on his face to give out a clue on how it went between Snape and him.

Regulus spares Snape a single glance, pouring all of his distaste into it. “Let’s get this over with.”

“We’re partying tomorrow night,” Barty reminds him. Regulus groans, “I don’t think I’ll be available tomorrow.”

Barty’s face contorts into disappointment. “Shit, it’s never as fun without you.”

“Sorry.”

Snape’s and his cells go off at the same moment and he bites back on a sigh, motioning Snape to follow him.

It takes them two minutes at most, two minutes too long to spend in each other’s company but Snape seems to agree on keeping their mouths shut. He doesn’t have much hope it’ll be a long silence on his part.

Sirius and Potter are too good at making people’s blood boil.

He stops short when they come in front of their cottage. He crosses his arms, eyes squinted, and examines him. Snape’s mouth thins even further when Regulus doesn’t make a move to knock on the door and taps his foot on the ground.

“You’re going to be nice,” Regulus says in the end, his voice carrying a hint of warning.

Snape snorts in surprise. “Who are you to tell me how to behave?”

Regulus is unfazed, having expected this sort of answer. “It doesn’t matter who I am,” he takes a step towards the man, thanking the stars for giving him a few inches on Snape. “You are not to ruin this fragile peace I’ve built _brick by brick_. You’re not going to barge in there and start a fight with Sirius or James no matter how shitty they are to you. You’ll sit down, drink the tea Lily brings and you’re going to be so fucking nice that they're going to have no choice but do the same.”

Snape’s face doesn’t change as he speaks. It is as if he hasn't spoken. Regulus fervently hopes he didn't waste his breath.

He bites back a sigh and knocks his fist on the door, the sound echoing in the street.

It is Sirius who opens the door, but he doesn’t spare a single glance to Snape. He grabs Regulus by the arm, getting behind him as he nudges Regulus towards the guestroom like he is worried Snape might attack from behind.

He slams the door so hard that Regulus jumps in the air. He glowers at his brother.

“So? How long he’s going to be here?” he demands with his fists on his hips, panting hard through his nose. His hair looks like he's been tugging at it, a habit they share and one that their mother hates.

Regulus restrains himself from snapping. He huffs, leaning against the closed door. “He doesn’t know yet.”

Sirius tosses his head back in a groan like he’s the unluckiest bloke to ever exist, but his face is sheepish when he returns his gaze to Regulus. “Sorry, I just can’t believe I have to spend time with him. Prongs and I refused it at first but Lily forced us.”

Regulus shifts his eyes, his heart squeezing in his chest at his cold words. He tries to keep still but he gives up when he feels like he’s about to blow into pieces and hugs his arms to ground himself. He doesn’t say anything in response.

“Reggie? What is it?” he asks, tilting his face to catch his eyes. His voice sounds worried but it sounds mocking to Regulus’ ears.

He jerks his head away like he’s chasing a fly. When it gets through the thick skull of his brother’s that he won’t say anything else, Sirius grabs his chin to make him look at him with a sigh.

“Spill.”

He laughs bitterly, determined to not say anything. His dedication lasts for a second before he blurts out, “I’m sorry it’s such a burden.”

Surprise replaces the haughty suffering on his face. He gapes at him for a few moments before he tightens his fingers on his jaw.

“You’re not a burden to me, Regulus,” he snaps but Regulus doesn’t miss the misty look in his eyes.

He shrugs, turning his eyes up to the ceiling to not meet his eyes, muttering meaningless words to himself. Sirius releases his face and takes a step back.

He feels Sirius’ gaze on him but he refuses to look back, feeling his face colouring darker longer they stand there.

“Do you want to do something when things settle down?”

Regulus’ gaze snaps back to Sirius rubbing the back of his neck, with a remarkable flush of his cheeks and ears. He clears his throat and adds when Regulus keeps staring at him in confusion, “You know, just the two of us? It’s been so long.”

Regulus wants to laugh but he doesn’t want to ruin this.

 _Twenty three years_. He says so.

“I’d like that,” he adds before Sirius can withdraw his offer.

They nod at each other purposefully, and Regulus wonders if they’re going to shake hands on it.

Regulus jabs a thumb behind him. “Shouldn’t we go?”

Sirius’ face twists into an ugly sneer, “Maybe we should just let them figure it out between themselves.”

Regulus scoffs, pushing himself away from the door. “They _always_ know. No point in putting it off.”

Sirius looks like he’s about to argue but in the end, he follows Regulus outside. “Better get it over with,” Sirius mumbles under his breath, taking a deep breathe as if he’s preparing for a battle.

They take the sofa close to the door, a bit too small for the two of them. They have a small fight on who gets to put both arsecheeks on it but neither of them makes a move to take other empty seats. It almost feels like they’re out of the scene, this way.

James Potter and Lily Evans Potter, on the other hand, have taken the biggest sofa but they’re sitting unnecessarily close, Lily almost on his husband’s lap.

Across them, Severus Snape stirs his tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided it makes more sense for it be multi-chaptered fic than a series of one shots, so I'm marking this as incomplete for now.  
> Chapter 3 will be "Severus Snape attends a tea party at Potters’."


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Severus Snape attends a tea party at the Potters'. It goes a little bit awry.

“May I have some milk?” Snape asks. He’s wonderfully polite.

James Potter tilts his neck to the side, and hums like he’s thinking about it with a ghost of a smirk on his face. He opens his big, fat mouth –Regulus can swear he can see his tonsils- before Lily elbows him in the side. That effectively shuts him up. He huffs and stands up, flipping Sirius two fingers when Sirius shakes his head in mock disappointment.

Regulus is impressed with their ability to hold grudges.

“How have you been, Severus?”

Snape startles like he hadn’t expected Lily to address him directly. Lily keeps her smile on, even though it seems painful and forced with only lower half of her face moving.

Snape shuffles in his seat. “I’ve been teaching at Hogwarts since you... Died.”

Sirius snorts loudly and Snape’s head whips to glare at him. Lily, on the other hand, doesn’t seem upset with Sirius. Instead a similar expression appears on her face and her gaze turns cold. “Yes, Sirius told us about that.”

Snape averts his eyes, and he puts the cup in his hands on the table, running his palms over his thighs. His eyes sweep the room like he doesn’t want to meet anyone’s eyes.

Sirius tosses his head back after giving Regulus a pointed look that Lily catches. He shrugs shamelessly and peeks at the hall for James. He appears a few moments later, strolling in with a milk bottle.

“I hope you don’t mind it cold,” James says with a mild tone as he places it in front of him. Lily cranes her neck to see it and curses under her breath, springing from her seat to walk towards them.

“That one’s spoiled,” Lily murmurs, and snatches it right out of Snape’s hand. His hand hovers in the air, twitching like he wants to reach something. She opens the lid and holds it for her husband to smell.

“Is it?” James gives a sniff, and gags, pushing it away from his nose. Lily sniggers at the face James pulls and pats him on the chest.

“Yeah, I forgot to throw it away.”

Snape slides his hands between his thighs, and his shoulders stiffen visibly as he takes in the easy way they interact with each other with terrifying intensity. Regulus knows he spent his last year in Hogwarts avoiding them as much as possible, hanging out with the future Death Eaters. He has probably never seen them together up close outside a classroom.

He doesn’t know what Snape expected when he realised how life went on around here. Did he expect them to have drifted apart with time? Or have grand fights that broke them apart swiftly?

He is not curious and he doesn’t want to figure it out.

Regulus leans into Sirius and whispers, “Should we just go?”

Sirius pinches his arm, and smiles when they all turn at the sound of his yelp. “I told you,” he whispers back.

“Stuff it,” he hisses, and wriggles his bottom to stand up, “Come on.”

He tugs Sirius on his feet but James is on them with a thunderous expression. He pushes them back with unnecessary force and they fall back with a thud. “Don’t even think about it,” James says though his gritted teeth, smacking his hands on their shoulders when Lily calls for him.

“What’s going on there?”

“We should get a new sofa, Lils. Their fat arse can’t fit on it.”

“I do not have-“ Regulus begins as she marches up to them.

“It’s because that chair is for one person. I’m not changing my living room so they can hide more comfortably in the corner.”

Sirius stares at Lily, “Uncalled for.”

“Does the baby want some milk?” she shakes the bottle and James takes a step back to avoid getting smacked in the face with it. He takes it from her hands gingerly.

“Don’t forget to put some honey in it, dear,” James adds. “And you can read him a story about what happens to traitors afterwards.”

Sirius gives a short laugh and taps his brother on the shoulder. “Is that what mothers do?”

Regulus rolls his eyes, “You should know about it. Don’t you remember when mother used to give you hot chocolate for being a _good boy_ after dinners with our cousins?”

Sirius glares at him, ignoring James’ and Lily’s simultaneous delighted cheers. He sends them a quick grin.

“That was bribery, not affection.”

Regulus flicks his nose, earning another glare. Sirius grabs his arm and twists it until Regulus howls in pain. Regulus tries to strike back with a punch in the gut but Sirius puts him in a headlock the second he thinks about it.

He really needs to go the gym.

Sirius pants above him as Regulus struggles to breathe with the arm cutting off his air supply, patting at his arm to admit surrender. “He’s going to behave now.”

“If you’re done fooling around like a pair of toddlers,” Snape cuts in with a drawling voice, bringing everyone’s attention back to him, “I think you’d like to hear what happened to your son.”

The temperature in the room drops abruptly. Regulus draws a long breath when Sirius releases him and crosses his arms in front of his chest, eyeing his brother warily.

He breaks the tense silence when no one says anything for a long time, “I’ve just met him actually. He’s fine.”

“What?” everyone except Snape gapes at him, and he winces. “Yeah, but Snape sent him back,” he points at the other man, leaning back to hide behind Sirius.

“Hold on,” James cuts in with a dangerous edge to his voice. “What was that in the forest then? Remus told us there was a battle going on in Hogwarts. We’ve been expecting him.”

“He’s not that dead, apparently,” Regulus murmurs.

James tilts sideways to glare at Regulus. “What the fuck does that mean?”

He lifts a shoulder, digging deeper in the sofa. “He seems immune to the Dark Lord’s Avada Kedavra. How the hell should I know? He stayed with us for ten minutes before _he_ came in to usher him back.”

“Us?” Sirius demands as James and Lily turn to glare at Snape.

“Yeah, _us_ ,” Regulus snaps, tired of the conversation already. “Evan and Barty were with me. We were extremely nice,” he assures the Potters’ when their faces twist into despair. “He didn’t even want to leave.”

“Merlin, Reg, how many times do I have to tell you to cut ties with them?”

Regulus balks at his nerve. “They’re my friends. I’m not asking for permission.”

“Look how that turned out for you,” he half yells.

“How did your friendships turn out, Sirius? Tell me.” He shoves Sirius away, pulling himself to his feet to stare him down. “Can you tell me in good conscience that you made better choices than I did? Because my friends,” he presses, “never betrayed me or never thought I’d betray them.”

“Hey!” James objects but Regulus pays him no mind. He stares at his brother’s pale face, all blood drained.

“Are you really proud of the fact that your friends didn’t think you’d betray Voldemort?” Lily snorts, icy eyes trained on Regulus.

“Keep your nose out of this,” Regulus orders her and James promptly puffs up like a balloon.

One that he’d like to puncture with a sharp knife.

He cuts it in before he can start an obnoxious monologue. “I couldn’t care less about your wife’s feelings if I tried, Potter,” he sneers, “so spare me the lecture.”

A slurp cuts James off mid breath. They all turn to Snape to see him watching the scene with apparent amusement.

“I’m very impressed by your self restraint, Black,” he tells Regulus.

“Sit back down,” Lily orders, jerking her chin towards Sirius but Regulus moves past her to sit next to Snape without acknowledging her. Sirius watches him walk with narrowed eyes.

He wonders if their alone time just got cancelled.

He couldn’t care less about that either.

Lily folds her arms across her chest. “We’re waiting.”

“He’s not dead. Apparently. He came for a short time but he left,” Regulus explains, he turns to Snape. “Maybe it was something like a coma.”

“No.”

“Well, what did you hear from Lupin?”

“Just that there was a war going on at Hogwarts. He left for his wife after we accompanied Harry to…” Lily’s voice trails, turning to James like she’s asking for his help.

“He went back,” Regulus throws an arm over his eyes, “Shouldn’t you be happy?”

James splutters, “Of course we’re happy. What kind-“

Regulus waves his hand to stop him. “Lupin has a wife?”

“We didn’t even have time to ask about that,” Lily whines and James rubs her arms to placate her.

Snape’s cell chimes and Regulus jolts. They all watch as Snape take it out agonisingly slow. Like he wants to drag this out as long as possible. He stares down, the light from the screen making his face glow like it’s from a shitty horror movie they show every weekend in the theatre near Evan’s grocery store.

“What’s it say?” James asks, craning his neck like he can see from that far away with his horrendous eyesight.

Snape sends him a chilly glance, pocketing his cell. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Yes, I would. That’s why I’m fucking asking mate.”

Snape shows his teeth in a manner that suggests it’s supposed to be a smile, which makes James take a step back with a confused look thrown at Lily.

“It says we will have one hundred seventy one dinners.”

James starts to cough, so violent that it shakes his whole body, his face going a dangerous shade of red. Lily makes him sit, handing him a cup of tea as she mumbles something under her breath. Sirius pats him on the back with a worried expression, glaring at Snape like he’s suspicious he had something to do with it.

“I’m fine,” he croaks out, throwing himself back on the sofa. “Just took me by surprise.”

“What did you mean by ‘we’?” Sirius demands, sliding down the arm to sit properly. He pats James’ knee absentmindedly.

“Not you,” Snape drawls, “Thank Merlin for small mercies.”

“That’s a bloody big mercy,” Sirius shots back but he’s grinning, ignoring his best friend’s death glare. He entwines his hands behind his neck, stretching out his legs. He looks like he’s going to have a good night’s sleep.

“That’s because we still have enough dinners with Mother and Father to last us twenty years,” Regulus reminds him coolly. Sirius pretends he doesn’t hear him, keeping his casual demeanour.

“We shall attend Potter’s Quidditch matches together for a while,” Snape speaks up before it can escalate again.

He’d look more comfortable if they were making him eat stones, Regulus thinks.

“Who’s ‘we’?” Sirius asks in a bored tone. “How long is ‘a while’?”

Snape closes his eyes and begins to breathe deeply. “Me and Lily. For a whole a year.”

Sirius barks out a laugh. “Is this my lucky day?”

Regulus takes out his cell out of his back pocket when it starts to buzz.

He laughs, with a hysterical edge to it. He holds up his cell, and waves it in the air.

“It’s probably because Bellatrix died today as well.”

Sirius snaps to attention, staring at his with unguarded mortification. Regulus shrugs, “I think we will have to deal with her.”

“Can’t they send her to your friends or something?”

“It’s supposed to be a punishment, isn’t it? And I’m the one getting the short end of the stick here, brother,” he says, “she killed you once already. She can’t be that mad at you anymore. Can you imagine how much shit she’s going to give to me?”

Sirius face softens in sympathy and he leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “We’ll give her hell.”

“Ask your mummy to give her a scolding,” James mocks him.

Regulus opens his mouth to retort but then shares a look with Sirius.

“That’s a pretty good idea actually,” Sirius says thoughtfully.

“She’s very angry with Bellatrix for killing Sirius,” he explains when they all stare at them incredulously.

“She wanted to do it herself,” Sirius chimes in, looking very proud of himself.

“Oh, grow up already!”

“He’s telling me to grow up,” he mumbles to himself like it’s a joke. He laughs sharply, “Tell me then, why did you get those extra seven nights for?”

“You would’ve loved that story but I guess you’re not going to hear it,” Regulus says, knowing Sirius loves hearing about all the small ways Regulus rebels.

Snape growls beside him, and Regulus jumps, realising he forgot Snape was even there. “No one gives a single fuck, Snape! Get over yourself.”

Sirius’ eyes glint across the room and he eyes them shrewdly. “I see.”

Lily heaves a deep breath, her mouth turned downwards. “I want you two out of this room right now,” she says with a trembling voice, pointing between Sirius and Regulus.

Regulus doesn’t need to be told twice and he runs out of the room faster than they could blink, heading for the kitchen. He opens the fridge, ignoring Lily’s countless warnings not to mess with her kitchen and grabs two beers, uncapping them with a flick of his wrist.

When Sirius closes the door behind him, he hands Sirius one of them before he can say anything. He thanks him, his careful gaze on Regulus as he takes a small sip.

“Bellatrix,” Sirius mouths to him before he throws his head back to drain half of the bottle.

“Bellatrix,” he repeats.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: Sirius and Regulus meet Bellatrix / Snape goes to James Potter's Quidditch match 
> 
> I'm not sure but probably the first one.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius and Regulus bet on who killed Bellatrix.

“Why does Potter keep buying this brand?” Regulus asks with a grimace, holding up the bottle in the air to examine it. It’s Muggle.

“I buy this brand,” Sirius deadpans.

He huffs, “Of course you do. Four years living like a Muggle and you pick up their vile tastes.”

“Don’t you get extra shifts for saying shit like that?” Sirius squints at him. “I remember they made you help out with boxes in Rosier’s supermarket for a month.”

He does get extra shifts but it’s worth seeing the annoyed expression on his face. Besides, he thinks whoever decides their punishments misses the point sometimes. Working with Evan was much preferable than hanging out with Potter and Sirius, when he’d still been fuming about his past life.

“Not when what I say is the truth,” he says, sipping from the bottle before he gives up and drains the rest into the sink. “Let’s just go home and drink there,” he offers, his voice mild.

Sirius snorts, “Not a chance I’m going there when I don’t have to.” However, he drains his own bottle too and pats his pockets a few times as he does whenever he’s leaving a place. “Let’s just go to a pub.”

“Are you going to abandon Potter like this?” he tries to ask innocently.

Sirius shoots him a look that says he knows what he’s trying to do. He doesn’t fall for the provocation and shrugs unabashedly. “I wasn’t the one to marry Lily, was I? He can deal with his wife’s friends himself.”

“Dangerous words,” he mumbles, earning a chuckle from his brother. Sirius opens the window and beckons him with a finger, a huge grin splitting his face.

“Are we really doing that?” Regulus asks, eyeing the floor that’s further away than he thinks safe.

Sirius hops on the windowsill and throws his legs over to the other side, throwing himself on the floor. He turns back to Regulus, his chin barely reaching the window and rests his arms from outside, looking uncharacteristically unattractive. “I think we’re pretty enough to pull it off.”

“How does that help?” he asks, pushing Sirius away from the window. He pulls himself up and over in one fluid motion, a lot smoother than Sirius. He cocks an eyebrow at his brother, who watches him with a delighted expression.

“Yeah, we can totally pull it off,” he says instead of answering him. Regulus shakes his head to stave off a smile but he fails. He pushes Sirius hard, making him stumble.

“Move before Lily catches us.”

Sirius cranes his neck inside before he closes the window. “I’m more worried about James finding out.”

Regulus sighs, sliding his hands into his pockets. He bumps his shoulder into Sirius, looking up at the setting sun. “We should worry about ourselves first. Today, at least.”

“Maybe especially not today,” Sirius mumbles but starts to walk away. He turns back to Regulus after a moment of hesitation. “How was Harry?”

Regulus feels himself smile before he can stop it. “Very polite. I felt pretty awful for the poor boy though. He took everything in stride,” he says, thinking how easily he accepted the situation, ready to adapt. He sees the tense lines of his shoulders and tries to ease the tension. “You should’ve seen the last look he gave to us. I think he almost wanted to stay with Barty and Evan.”

Sirius sends him an exasperated glare but doesn’t object.

“I think he misses you.”

Sirius halts in front of him and Regulus bumps into his back, his breath getting knocked out of him. Sirius swallows audibly as Regulus hastily takes a step back but Sirius quickly grabs his elbow. “Are you okay?”

He nods, averting his eyes to avoid looking at Sirius’ bright eyes. He’d seen his brother cry only once but it still haunts him to that day. Sirius’ hand tightens on his elbow and his mouth curls up in a parody of a smile. “I miss him too,” he confesses in a low voice.

Regulus lifts his free arm and pats Sirius on the shoulder, feeling terribly awkward as he does. It erases the wistful expression on his face and he snorts. “Astounding,” he shakes his head with a fond smile. “Did that hurt too much?”

“No, I won’t need mummy to kiss it. We can still go get pissed,” Regulus assures him.

“Good,” he says, leaning into him like he’s going to give him a secret, “because she’d sink her teeth into it.”

“Walk, Sirius,” he orders, stifling a giggle. “I want to get a decent table.”

“Shall we go to the one with the girl you like?” he asks with arched brows but does as he’s told when Regulus pushes from his back.

Regulus ignores the comment. “No, I want to go somewhere public. Bellatrix might come today.”

Sirius’ smile disappears and he kicks a stone towards the road, glaring at it like it’s responsible for all this. “Does it say anything else than ‘be prepared’?”

He shakes his head. “Sirius,” he begins, seizing his brother up and down, from his bowed head to his hunched shoulders. “We can decline it.”

He bites into his bottom lip, running a hand through his hair. “No, I won’t run away from her.”

“It’s not a bloody competition.”

“If it’s not her, then it’ll be someone else. I’m not scared of her,” Sirius says, his mouth stretching into a cruel smile, “she is the one who should be scared.”

Regulus feels his stomach drop, to see his brother turn this into an act of revenge. He understands, he truly does. He’d been more or less the same when he first died, with only his father and other relatives to keep him company, brimming with the desire to take revenge.

He nods with a forced smile like his approach doesn’t bother him. “I’ll be with you.”

Sirius’ smile widens, his eyes glinting with satisfaction but it only serves to put Regulus more on edge.

He abruptly throws his head back and barks out a loud laugh. “Who do you suppose killed her?”

Regulus takes a step back in surprise. He thinks for a moment. “I’d have said Moody if I didn’t just learn he was already dead.”

Sirius shakes his head distractedly, as it’s probably old news to him that Moody is dead. “Maybe McGonagall,” he mutters to himself and turns sharply to Regulus with an expectant expression.

“Maybe,” he says, his doubt creeping into his voice, “She never struck me as someone who could kill anyone.”

Sirius waves his hand. “I’m sure she’d make an exception for Bellatrix.”

Regulus rolls his eyes, folding his arms in front of his chest. “Sorry to burst your bubble but I’m sure she wasn’t the one to kill her.”

Sirius narrows his eyes at him, but his mouth quivers before he schools his face into a scowl. “You want to make a bet?”

He shrugs, his mind whirling as he thinks of options. He doesn’t think Lupin would be able to beat Bellatrix but he can’t think of anyone else other than him and Moody. “What are the stakes?”

“You need to decide if you want to bet before we decide on the stakes.”

“I’m not betting if I don’t know the stakes,” Regulus replies as he takes a step closer in anticipation.

Sirius rolls his eyes, mouthing incomprehensible words towards the sky before he snipes at him, “Fine. Let’s do it your way. I want you to take Mother off my back about marrying.”

Regulus laughs in relief, taking in the childish impatience of Sirius. “Okay,” he says, imagining the look on his mother’s face if he actually wins. “I expect nothing less from you. You’re going to take her off my back even if you have to marry to do it.”

Sirius’ face contorts into a grimace like he didn’t take that into account but he accepts without a complaint, confirming his doubts that his brother is not in a good headspace.

“Who do you say then?”

“Longbottom boy,” he blurts out after a moment of consideration, surprising even himself with his boldness.

Sirius recoils in shock, gaping at him before he shuts his mouth and nods quickly. “I’m still going with McGonagall.”

“I’m telling you, you’re wasting your shot,” Regulus croons. “Come on, I’ll allow you to change it.”

His brother smacks him over the head, “I’m not changing it.” He gestures towards a relatively empty bar they frequently visit. “Let’s head there.”

They take a small empty table outside, next to a mixed group of girls and boys. One of the boys straightens his spine when he stops the two of them approaching and throws an arm to the back of a girl’s chair. He glowers at Sirius and Regulus, his gaze hopping between them with suspicion.

Regulus sends a wink to his girl when she lifts her head.

Sirius attempts to kick him under the table, missing it with mere inches. “Not today,” he mumbles as he opens his menu, blindly looking through it like he doesn’t already know what he’ll order.

He snaps it shut and declares firmly, daring him to object. “I’m going to order tequila shots for us.”

Regulus holds back a sigh, accepting he’ll get a hangover no matter what they drink. “Are you really this stressed out about Bellatrix?”

Sirius sobers up in an instant at his question. “Not really,” he says, confirming his assumptions.

“Snape?” he presses and Sirius huffs out a laugh from his nose.

“That too...” he mutters, drawing circles on the table. “My imagination is running wild about the battle.”

The waiter approaches, the same one since he came here. He wonders what she might’ve done to earn this many years. “Regulus,” she greets him with a raised eyebrow, looking between them. “Brothers, I assume.”

Regulus hums, sending a scathing glare at Sirius when he doesn’t acknowledge her. He gives her an apologetic smile, and orders their shots with fries.

She opens her mouth to comment on the unexpected order but refrains when her eyes catches Sirius’ distant face and she leaves hurriedly.

Regulus allows the silence to stretch between them for a few minutes but he bursts in the end.

“What is wrong with you? She was just being polite.”

“I don’t trust people who has to work for at least twenty years as a waiter in this world,” Sirius says, his smile not reaching his eyes.

“You know what they say about people who are rude to the waiters.”

“Maybe she was a bitch to waiters. Or maybe she was a murderer,” he drawls, tipping his chair back on two legs. “Who knows?”

“I really wish you’d fall,” Regulus mumbles under his breath, but thankfully, Sirius doesn’t catch it when their waiter comes with a tray full of their shots. She leaves them without a word and Sirius throws one back without salt or lemon before she’s two steps away.

Regulus’ hand hover helplessly when Sirius throws back another, and he tries to give the people who’re eyeing them with suspicion in the next table reassuring smiles.

“Slow down,” he says through gritted teeth. “I swear I’ll call father on you if you get-”

Someone scratches the chair across the floor, the ear-splitting noise making them both jump out of their skins as they whip their head to stare at the intruder.

Bellatrix, younger than Regulus last saw her and radiant as ever, flops down on the chair, crossing her legs clothed with shiny leather trousers. She sighs loudly, grabbing a shot from the table before she licks the rim and gulps it down. She slams it down, causing Sirius’ empty glasses shake dangerously. She takes a slice of lemon, sucking on it noisily and she drops it in front of Sirius.

Her arms reach back, and with mortification Regulus realises he missed two baby strollers in his shock of seeing her.

Bellatrix pulls them by her sides, adjusting the blankets over two Horcrux Voldermorts.

“This is Nagini,” Bellatrix pats the roof over the bigger creature, fixing her gaze on Sirius’ cheek, who turns his head away from her like he can’t bear looking at her. “And this one has been with Potter for a long time. I’m not sure what to call him.”

Sirius’ jaw tightens and he throws back another shot. Bellatrix’ mouth twitches and she leans back in satisfaction but she doesn’t turn her stare at Regulus.

Regulus wonders if she thinks she’s punishing her by not talking to him.

Their waiter comes back with their fries, stumbling when her eyes fall upon Horcruxes. She sets the plate on the table and inhales in dismay as she takes a closer look and mumbles, “What the fuck is that?”

“Bring me warm milk,” Bellatrix sneers, shutting the roofs over the strollers halfway until they can’t be seen, “Also potato puree and some vegetables.”

“And more shots,” Sirius says, resting his face in his palms. “You know what? Just bring the bottle.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day in Evan Rosier's life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're back to my beloved Death Eaters. Thank you @wishfulcanadian for motivating me.

Evan falls asleep at 4 o’clock and wakes up when his alarm goes off at 6 to get ready for his shift. There is a triple espresso waiting for him in the Muggle coffee machine he set at midnight, when he retired to bed. It cost him half of his salary back then, but it had never failed him once.

He tiptoes around the house, careful not to wake his parents, the wooden floors creaking whenever he steps too quickly. He leaves a note on the fridge telling them he’ll be out with his friends and not to wait up for him for dinner.

There is a silent agreement between the three of them to spend as little time together as possible but that doesn’t mean he can get away with disappearing without a word. They want the illusion of still holding the power over him. He doesn’t mind giving them what they want, as long as he remains in control of his own life.

He checks the lock on his savings, adjusting the books with his tongue peeking our from the corner, so he can know if someone touches the box when he’s out.

He is the one to open the market at seven o’clock. He worked as a regular cashier for ten years before he was promoted to be an assistant manager. It gives him more responsibilities but also more money that he can save to move out of his parents’ place and reliable excuses to stay out of the house.

He keeps lying to them about getting extra shifts, which ends up with him getting real extra punishments but it usually allows him to have a few hours to himself. This market has become a sanctuary for him. He is always very careful about expiration dates, storage and having what his usual customers buy in hand. He’s made deals with a small electronics company, and he orders items from them for his customers. They always end up buying more stuff when they come, and leave pleased for buying electronics at such a low price.

His works as an assistant manager will end after ten whole years. Then he’ll be free to buy this market. He’ll be free to sleep behind the cashier and never go back to see his parents.

He helps out new cashiers, and doesn’t ask them what they did in their past life to end up here. He doesn’t wonder. He knows it can’t be worse than what he did. It takes a lot to surprise him. One of the boys hints at arson but his grin dies out when Evan turns his icy stare at him. None of them dare ask him any personal questions.

That leaves him less time to check their supplies but he manages to finish it by his usual time. Barty stops by during the lunch break from kindergarden where he’s kind of an errand boy for the teachers. He doesn’t complain about the job, but Evan half suspects it’s because he actually prefers to work with kids instead of adults, for their lack of judgement.

Barty is always jittery, with his newfound ticks and habits but he gets used to them in a short time. His mind is hazy when it comes to his memories of people on the earth, but he’s sure Barty wasn’t like this. Regulus sometimes gets this distant expression on his face as he looks at Barty, as if he’s contemplating asking about what he did as a Death Eater. He never asks though. He’s never asked Evan either.

He’s never told he was a part of the search party for Regulus along with Bellatrix. He doesn’t tell him the Dark Lord called them back to raid a random Muggle village two days after they were sent to find him, because he couldn’t care less about what happened to him. He knew he was dead and that was enough. He didn’t care if he was killed for their cause or if he killed himself.

Evan sometimes thinks maybe they should discuss it, like a confession at the church. Maybe it would ease their conscience. But he doesn’t know if they deserve closure.

Barty gives half of his food to Evan, like always, forcing himself to swallow what little left on his plates. They chat about the girl Evan almost slept with last weekend, but Evan doesn’t say she left when he told her about where he works and for how long. Barty pretends to believe his lie when he says she threw up, so he had to leave the girl with her friends.

They always have these meaningless conversations, evading the elephant in the room. Evan sees a bit of himself in Barty but he knows he can’t help him until Barty starts to see himself in Evan.

They run in circles, pretend to be okay, pretend their prides are not stamped on. They pretend they are not at the edge of a meltdown whenever they talk with their parents. Barty is a smart boy, but he’s broken. He never liked the boy when he was alive, but he sees himself as an older brother to him here.

Barty tells him Bellatrix babysits Horcrux Voldemorts when Evan finishes his meal. He feels bile rise in his throat but he swallows around it, refusing to throw up a decent meal at the mention of his old master. He recounts a tale about Regulus’ encounter with Bellatrix with Sirius, most certainly more entertaining than Regulus would’ve told it and they have a laugh about it, secretly glad that they’re not the ones in her place.

“And she ordered warm milk for them,” Barty exclaims, pushing his food around with his fork, “Do you think they’ll grow up to be Dark Lord?”

Evan sends him a pointed look. “They don’t even let you roam around the streets alone. They definitely won’t let hem grow up.”

Barty’s mood sours after that but Evan doesn’t really see why. It’s not harsher than what they say normally and he’s complained about not being able to walk home alone countless times. He mutters some excuses about having to leave when he knows they have a substitute teacher for when he’s on a break but he doesn’t push it, giving him the same courtesy by not calling him on his lie.

Barty and him understand each other more than anyone else can know. They know about the struggles, the guilty, the indignation of having to live like this when they heard they were the centre of the universe since they were born.

Evan gets him and he wants him to have the same closure.

“Barty,” he calls when he has one foot out of the door. “I’m going to go looking for Auror Moody tonight. Do you want to join me?”

He stares at him with his naturally wide eyes, giving him the illusion of having all the innocence of a three year old boy. But Barty is not a three year old boy and he is a great actor. Evan can’t tell what he thinks.

“I’ll pass mate. Good luck to you.”

He turns back without waiting for his reply.

***

His quest to find Auror Moody remains fruitless. When he asks about him, they ask for identification. When they run his identification, they refuse to give him information. It doesn’t help when he tries to explain he only wants to talk and give what he has been keeping safe for years.  
He doesn’t know what he expected. He’s not bitter, because he gets it. It’s all on the paper. All his deeds, his sins, his good works. They must think it’s crystal clear.

  
He is frustrated. He is at the age where he should be having his midlife crisis in the living world. Instead he is in this freaky place with it’s straightforward rules and there’s an eternity scattered before him.

  
It’s been less than twenty years but he spends half of his life here ruminating about the infinity, and the other half going over his past life.

  
If this is the his core punishment, they’re doing a stellar job. If they think they’re punishing by making him work at a market, they’ve got it completely wrong.

  
That market is the only thing that belongs to him. He didn’t borrow a penny from his father ever since they’ve come here, no matter how many times Barty talks about “daddy’s money”. He gets paid twice as much of the minimum wage but he doesn’t tell anyone about it, but it’s only half a lie because he puts half of it aside as soon as he gets his hands on it.  
  
When he gets out of that house, he’ll do it with a clean cut. No ties, no tears, no goodbyes. He won’t take money from his uncle like Sirius Black did. He’ll build his life on his own, with his own blood and tears and no one will be able to say they had anything to do with it.

  
Evan Rosier was born into a wealthy, pure blooded family as a talented and fawned over heir but he wishes he was never born sometimes. He wonders if he could make better choices if he was a girl, or if he fell in love with a Muggleborn. Would he think for himself then? See beyond his privilege?  
Would he leave every comfort of his ancestry behind?

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know that he’d do the right thing if he were dealt better cards.

He doesn’t need closure. He needs peace and silence.

Evan was born in 1957, but he thinks his joints should ache. He thinks he should develop hypertension and pop some Muggle pills everyday. He feels like he should be the only one in this world who needs these prescriptions.

He feels old and worn out but he doesn’t think he has the right to tell these to anyone. He could always talk to Regulus, heaven knows how many times he listened to him about his brother. He’s been there when his mother died and she got anxiety attacks every night. Regulus would drop everything to be by his side.

But he wants to be able to say he did this all by himself. When the time comes he’ll say, “Yes, I’m still paying for my sins. But this is all me. No one held me upright when I built this.”

He could go to Barty and gossip with him until sun rises and sets but it won’t give him any solutions. It’ll only leave him angry and resentful, and it won’t be even Barty’s fault. He’ll contribute to the talk as much as him and they’ll add fuel to each other’s fire.

Evan Rosier was born in 1957 and he should be forty one now. But he died when he was twenty four, when he’s never fallen in love, when he’s never had a meal he paid for his own money, when he’s never had an original thought.

He doesn’t know how old his body is now and he’s still never fallen in love. But he pays for his own meals, and pays his own share for the rent and he doesn’t listen to his parents. Mudblood still passes his lips but he doesn’t feel inferior when he answers questions Muggles have for him. He replies and they smile. They leave pleased with their shopping and they stop by even though their houses are quite far away.

Evan Rosier saves half of his money, he hangs out with his friends and builds a life for himself without a word to anyone. He carries a piece of Auror Moody’s nose with him when no one tells him where he can find him, but he puts it next to his money every night, placing a new object carefully in front of his safebox to make sure no one touches his stuff. He takes a note in his notebook so he doesn’t forget and locks his door.

Evan Rosier has to go through three more years before he can buy that market. But he’s gone through seventeen and every day that passes only adds to his strength.

He goes to bed at midnight every night, falls asleep far later than that, wakes up at the crack of the dawn. His customers love him and one day he’ll fall in love. He’ll buy his market and take his friends out for a dinner on the first night.

Evan Rosier is miserable, but he won’t feel this way for eternity. And when that day comes, he’ll fall asleep the second the lays his head on his pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Depersonalisation, suicidal thoughts/suicide attempts.

His mother says she wanted to give him a different name but when he asks what she thought of, she falls silent. It makes him think she’s either given up on the idea when his father announced his decision to name him after himself, or it’s a girl’s name.

So he was named Bartemius Crouch Junior prior to his birth. He comes out premature– fitting to his name- and still manages to rupture his mother’s womb on his way out. He becomes jaundiced the next day and doesn’t go home for two months.

He knows for a fact that there was a watch on the wall in the room he was born after eighteen hours of labour because his mother talks about it like a miracle, like a cool breeze in the middle of a scorching summer.

He was born at seven p.m., exactly on sunset.

He wonders if he heard his first _tick tock_ there.

He dreams every night. It’s always same one. In his dreams, he floats. He floats in and out of Azkaban. They don’t try to stop him because he is one of them. When he opens his mouth to ask what’s happening, something escapes and that’s when he realises he hasn’t been breathing.

The stranger stares at him. He mouths _tick tock_.

He wakes up, gasping for a breath. He can’t wake up without a _tick tock_ , so he has to stare at the stranger. There aren’t any clocks in the house, but it’s loud. It says _tick-tock, wake-up_. It is sunrise, with the first rays of light tickling his eyelids and it _tick tocks_ like it did since his father cast the first Imperius.

He is thirsty and hungry but he lays in the bed, and listens to it until it fades away. He never tries to move while it still _tick tocks_.

He drinks water from his matte bottle. He bathes in complete darkness. He goes to barber for a shave when his facial hair grows.

His father sleeps in the room upstairs, with a mirror nailed on the door. Barty could close his eyes and get in that room. His father knows that and that’s enough for Barty.

He bows his head down as he passes by stores.

He has seen the stranger once and countless times since he left Azkaban but it takes him by surprise like a new face every time. The stranger wakes him up and Barty bows his head down. It’s a deal they both agree on.

****

He waits outside every evening but Bellatrix never looks away, never takes her eyes off them, always cooing over her little Voldemorts. She calls them Nagini and My Lord, and tries to breastfeed them. She manages to produce milk after three weeks but Nagini vomits the second he swallows, sending Bellatrix into hysterics. My Lord refuses it from the start.

They don’t stop crying for hours after that, always in sync but it drowns out the _tick tock_.

Nagini is more aggressive than My Lord, his skin scaly like the real Nagini. But he puts his arms around Bellatrix’ neck when he sinks his teeth into Bellatrix’ arm. She never bleeds and that makes Nagini cry too.

My Lord has green eyes and a lightning bolt on his forehead. He snuggles up to Bellatrix when she sleeps but he cries each time she wakes up to see his face up close.

They don’t gain weight or get taller and Bellatrix cries herself to sleep every night.

****

All the kids wear watches. They’re standard and they _tick tock_. He looks after the kids during their midday sleep every day, listening to it. He teaches the kids to read their watches in the afternoon.

He gets off work at sunset every day.

Sometimes Regulus waits for him outside, when his brother annoys him to a point where he can’t spend another minute in his presence. He chatters on about Sirius fucking Black like what he said to Potter that day is the most important thing in the world.

It silences the _tick tock_.

Regulus doesn’t wear a watch. He doesn’t put on sunglasses. He puts his phone facing the table.

Regulus waits with him it until _tick tock_ vanishes.

“Reggie,” he says sometimes.

“Barty,” he replies.

“You have a beautiful name,” he says one time.

“I’m Regulus the first,” he beams, “Sirius is Sirius the third.”

“I’m Bartemius the seventh,” he mumbles, erasing the smirk off his face.

“Did any of them call himself Barty though?”

Barty snorts. “I don’t think so. But I’m sure none of the Siriuses called themselves Padfoot either.”

Regulus’ nose creases but he shrugs. His face turns blank when his gaze falls on his face. He wonders if the stranger’s face transformed into something different and his hand flies to touch his nose, his cheekbones but they feel like they always did.

“What?” he asks.

“Have you looked into a mirror recently?”

Barty frowns and it _tick tocks_.

“This morning,” he says.

****

Evan saves half of his money every month and thinks they don’t know about it. Barty makes jabs about taking money from his father to rile him up but Evan has a thick skin and a thick skull.

“There’s this cashier working with me,” he says.

“Working for you,” Barty corrects with a grin.

“I don’t pay her,” he dismisses it with a wave of his hand.

Not yet, he thinks but doesn’t say it out loud.

“Did you ask her out yet?”

“I did. We already went on a date. She insisted about talking about our sins.”

Barty hums noncommittally, thinking it sounds dreadful.

“I felt good,” Evan says after a while. “We’re going to go on a third date tomorrow.”

“Have you already met the parents?” he teases but knows he said the wrong thing from the tense lines of Evan’s shoulders.

“They refuse to see her.”

“That sounds marvellous to me,” he grumbles, closing his eyes.

“They refuse, Barty,” he snaps and it _tick tocks_.

****

Barty slept for sixteen hours each day after Azkaban because it _tick tocked_ constantly when he was awake. Winky was not allowed to stop the watch or silence it because when she did, Barty shook off Imperius.

Barty wasn’t allowed to use glass utensils because the first day he came back from Azkaban he broke it and attacked his father with the shards. The water was all over the floor and he saw the stranger for the first time.

Barty wasn’t allowed to come near the walls because the last time he did, he slammed his head into the wall, knocking himself out and giving himself a scar and a concussion.

Barty wasn’t allowed to bathe alone because he tried to drown himself.

Barty wasn’t allowed to have a mirror in his room because he broke it with his fist and tried to attack his father with the invisibility cloak on him.

****

His therapist sits across the desk like he wants to put some space between them.

“Is there anything you want to tell me?” he asks, the same tone when he questions kids about bullying other kids.

The clock -démodé and common, he’s seen it everywhere, on every wall, on every surface- _tick tocks_ and Barty clenches his jaw not to scream.

“Is there anything specific you want to hear?” Barty asks.

“You know what I want to hear.”

“Yes,” Barty accepts it. “I know you inside out,” he reminds him.

His therapist throws his head back and laughs. “Do you? Really?”

Barty’s eyes narrow, and it twitches, once, twice, thrice.

“I don’t want to play.”

His therapist ceases to laugh and he turns his cold gaze to Barty, then to the clock.

Barty’s face morphs into a sneer when the stranger smirks at him.

“Good. We don’t have time to play. It’s sunrise, Bartemius,” he coos, “ _Tick tock, wake up_.”

Barty wakes up, seething, panting through his nose. He grabs the plastic cup on the chiffonier, and swings it at the wall –blue, empty- but it falls undamaged, the sound echoing mockingly.

He strains to hear something else, and he does. The birds chirping outside, the water pipes groaning, his mother’s snoring from next room.

He puts his feet on the floor, tentative, quiet, like a little kid roaming a dark house. He hisses when he steps on a wet spot in his haste to leave the room.

The water, splashed on the wall and spread on the floor. Barty stares down and the stranger stares back at him from the water. He has beautiful eyes and freckles all over his face. He’s thin and so, so young. The stranger –Barty- lifts a hand to touch his nose and Barty –the stranger- gasps when he feels it on his own face.

 _Tick tock_ they mouth at the same time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is a lot darker compared to first chapter but I believe it's fitting. And yes, we hate Bartemius Crouch Senior with a passion in this house.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> huge thanks to wishfulcanadian for nudging me into right direction. i've stolen many ideas from her for this story, and it made this a lot better than i would've made it to be.

His phone buzzes, incessant, loud and persistent as Sirius keeps on glaring at him just like he loved to do when they were little children and Regulus spilled the beans under their mother’s relentless interrogation.

  
But this time, instead of squirming and trying to get him to forgive him, Regulus continues putting his belongings in boxes, leaving the breakable ones for last in case Sirius decides to actually kick his stuff.

The best cross interrogators wouldn’t be able to learn who’s calling him at that moment.

“You can sulk all you want,” Regulus mutters as he grabs an armful of books, careful not to drop them.

“I can not believe you’re abandoning me,” Sirius explodes, “with them!”

“Yeah, I know how you feel,” he drawls, with an arched brow. Sirius’ face flushes, his eyes flashing indignantly for a moment but it shuts him up, and he shifts his gaze away.

“Look,” Regulus says, “I’ll be here when you have to dine with them, alright? You already spend half of your nights at Potters’ house anyway. It’s not like we actually saw each other and hanged out together.”

“It’s not the same thing,” Sirius objects, his mouth thinning upon hearing the accusation in Regulus’ words.

“Pretend I’m reading in my room and you won’t even notice I’m gone,” he dismisses, a wave of cruel satisfaction rolling over him to see the tables being turned. Now it’s Sirius who’s pleading Regulus to stay.

This world, afterlife, universe, whatever it is, doesn’t make the desire to get revenge magically disappear. He understands why Sirius is willing to get extra months with their parents, just to add a flavor to Bellatrix’ torment. He guesses they’ve been in close cells in Azkaban, and he shudders to think they’ve spent about twelve years next to each other in the presence of dementors. Bellatrix is basically the family member he spent most of time together.

Sirius must have known this too.

“You never cease to surprise me, Reggie,” Sirius breaks the silence after a while, and Regulus looks up to see his fury has turned into wistful expression.

He doesn’t reply, because suddenly it’s hard to breathe, like there’s a hand, an Inferi, squeezing his throat. He knows Sirius isn’t trying to insinuate anything here but all Regulus hears is that his brother is still surprised to find good in him.

****

The three of them have been together here for only a few years but they’ve reached an understanding. They don’t really need to talk about what they’re going to do to play along. Nevertheless, Evan thinks they should’ve talked about it. After all, getting that dinner invite from Bellatrix, eerily polite, was unsettling for all of them, even though he expected this to happen sooner or later.

Regulus, like him, evidently has paid attention and spent time on his appearance. He’s wearing his family ring, first time in what, twenty years? He doesn’t know if he’s trying to remind himself or Bellatrix that he was the Black heir when he died.

Evan has ditched his muggle cigarettes and muggle lighter.

Barty is wearing his favorite loose sweatpants and a hoodie with a muggle university’s logo on it.

Regulus squints at the logo, and sends him a meaningful glower as Evan knocks on the door.

“I’ll kill you if you ruin this for me,” Regulus leans in to whisper in Barty’s ear from behind. Barty smiles, blinking innocently before he turns and grabs Regulus’ arm, twisting it until Regulus is bent forward and howls with pain. Barty pats him on the back, and laughs when Regulus pants in short breaths.

“I’d kill you before you could even think about it,” Barty says as he releases his arm, sticking his hands into his pockets.

Regulus turns to him, almost knocking Evan down even though he weighs around half of him.

He slams his palms on his chest, making Barty’s smirk to widen but it disappears when he does it again.

“You couldn’t kill me here even if you tried for a fucking eternity,” regulus hisses, his hand closing on his hoodie. Evan feels completely lost, witnessing this kind of scene for the first time between them.

Barty and Regulus never argue, preferring to gang upon Evan.

Regulus pulls him closer, until they’re nose to nose. “You’re going to have to deal with it one way or another.”

Evan expects him to take a step back but Barty leans closer instead, with a curve to his mouth, his lips moving next to Regulus’ ear. He strains to hear something but he’s stepping back with a ringing laugh shortly.

Regulus, flushed bright red, looks on the brink of decking Barty but the door opens behind them at that moment. Before he can even take a look at Bellatrix, Barty shoulders them to get inside.

“I hope you didn’t cook,” he throws at Bellatrix as he toes off his muddy sneakers right in the middle of her white carpet.

“It’s me or Nagini, your choice,” she says, pinching Barty’s cheek.

“I’d rather starve,” he snaps, slapping her hand away.

“Still won’t kill you,” Regulus intervenes with a sweet tone.

Evan, done with their sudden inexplainable fighting, smacks each hand down on top of their heads. “There are children around. We don’t want to make a bad impression, do we?”

“No, papa,” Barty flutters his eyelashes and walks inside, leaving Regulus livid and seething behind him. Bellatrix throws her head back in a laugh, and suddenly embraces Evan. “My favourite cousin.”

Evan, slightly uncomfortable by her closeness, considering Blacks’ tendency to marry their cousins, pats her awkwardly at her back.

“How have you been?” he asks, squirming out of her embrace.

“I’ll be better,” she replies genuinely.

Evan wants to laugh right at her face. She doesn’t have a fucking idea how wrong she is. She doesn’t have a single clue that she’s all alone in this world, and they have no business with her other than to play her.

****

Regulus, with a determined frown, chews his second meatball. Across him Evan has cleared off his plate and chats amiably with Bellatrix while Barty throws his meatballs at Nagini and My Lord, even though they don’t make a move to eat them.

Once her head is turned, Regulus drops the rest of his food into Barty’s plate, which Barty allows with a slightly cold glance.

“Stop that,” Bellatrix says with a bored tone, but not moving a hair to stop him.

“I’m not going to put the food you bring me into my mouth, Bella.”

Bellatrix giggles, “You’ve always been a smart boy.”

Barty shrugs, clearly in agreement with her. Then he turns slowly towards them and says, “She likes to put laxatives in her meals. Her signature move. A meal you won’t forget.”

Everyone stills, before it breaks with Bellatrix’ snort. Regulus throws his fork on the table, and leans back, folding his arms in front of his chest.

“Fuck you,” he says to Barty.

Bellatrix blows her breath and shakes her head. “Still haven’t learned to tell between a joke and a truth?” She looks at Barty like she expects him to join her but he doesn’t look up, throwing the last piece at Nagini, right at his forehead.

Nagini hisses. Barty hisses back.

“Don’t get him started,” Bellatrix warns him.

“I’m not the one to put it to sleep, am I?”

“Why did you call us here?” Regulus interjects, his brows almost touching each other.

“Relax. You need to find yourself a decent lay,” Bellatrix points at him with a finger, “or do you need mummy’s help for that too?”

Regulus doesn’t react, other than his blushing face.

She gasps in a fake shock. “I see. You’re embarrassed. Shall I go ask Auntie to find you a good whore?”

“Is there a better whore than you?” Barty asks with a sneer.

Bellatrix’ eyes narrow but she doesn’t start screaming with rage. “You’re pushing it, junior.”

Barty grabs the knife and stabs it on the table. “I thought you might be interested, blood purity and all that.”

“I don’t need another child when I have these two,” she snaps. “The Dark Lord’s soul’s last piece still hasn’t arrived. It means he’s still alive there but he’s vulnerable. We need to prepare this world in case... in case he ends up here.”

Regulus hums, and leans forward to put his elbows on the table. “Are you entertaining the idea that he might lose?”

“It’s a fickle world he’s stuck in,” she whispers conspiratorially. “It would be a victory for him to come here.”

“She’s solved it already,” Evan says, “took me ten years to figure that one out.”

“Still doesn’t explain why you called us here.”

“You know why, Barty,” she says, peering at him under her lashes. “I see you hanging around the house, checking up on them to make sure I’m taking good care of them.”

Evan thinks for a second he misheard, because then this has the potential to ruin his whole life, if Barty is actually still loyal to the Dark Lord.

“You know me,” Barty says, “I can’t eat before I’ve seen Nagini and My Lord eat. That's why I keep throwing these at their heads.”

Bellatrix nods like it makes sense but Evan relaxes, sliding down his chair in relief.

“I love them but they’re not him,” she says, her voice wobbly. He’s never seen her this close to crying before. It’s strangely satisfying.

“You miss him,” Regulus widens his eyes. “Have you tried finding the diary? He might be called Tom Riddle.”

Bellatrix’ brows furrow in confusion, and Barty stares at Regulus like he’s starting to solve the puzzle that Regulus is.

Regulus laughs, his eyes crinkling in the corner and he looks charming and affectionate, of all things. “Yeah, the Dark Lord when he was only sixteen. A very handsome young man, if you ask me. Or maybe you should go looking the cup, since it was the one closest to you, if you’re uncomfortable with sixteen.”

“Don’t be a prude, Reggie. Why have one when she could have seven?”

Regulus smiles, his canines flashing. “Eight.”

“The fuck are you talking about?” Evan cuts in, irritation surging inside him.

He suddenly wants to go back to Duru, where there aren’t mind games, where his best friends suddenly don’t start fighting each other and where there aren’t creepy dark lords.

“I’ll tell you about it later,” Regulus says, looking sheepish.

It works really well with his own dinner plans for tomorrow for finally buying the market, so he nods enthusiastically despite feeling alienated.

“Focus,” Bella smacks her hands down on the table, causing the glasses to vibrate. “We need to come up with a solid plan, and we need to find the rest of his soul-“ she starts with a gleam to her eyes, her hands inching towards Barty in her excitement.

Barty plunges his knife into her hand.

Evan is not surprised in the slightest.

Bella stares at her hand like she expects it to suddenly speak and explain what just happened.

“Stuff it, Bella,” Barty gets up and scrutinizes Voldemorts for a moment before he kicks the strollers, sending them tumbling down.

Evan jumps to his feet and grabs Barty by the shoulders. He gives an apologetic smile to Bella who throws herself on the floor to right the strollers, yelling something incorrigible.

“Bella,” Evan yells, between her screams, suddenly overcome with the desire to let Barty go and have a go at her, “we’ve retired from death eating! Alright? We abide by the rules, pay our taxes and bills on time. I suggest you fucking do the same!”

Bellatrix’ eyes grow until she looks downright comical. “You bloodtraitors.”

Regulus gets up, calm and collected.

“We don’t even bleed anymore.”

  
***

  
Barty is wearing black trousers and a white shirt the next evening, fancy as he gets. They joke about Duru, then their lack of relationship, and then Bellatrix until the food is put in front of them.

He waits until both of their mouths are full before he breaks the news.

“I’ve bought the market.”

Regulus actually chokes on his food, just like he planned but Barty merely freezes, and swallows before he demands an explanation.

He knows they’ve known about this “buy the market, be your own man” project when Regulus tries to act surprised. He’d have believed Barty, but even he drops the act after a few moments of watching Regulus with a painful looking smile.

He’s never been the brightest of the bunch but he actually thought he’d kept this a secret.

“How long have you known?” he demands, on his third order. Barty huffs, but he’s actually eating, so Evan knows he’s in a good mood.

“You’re transparent, mate.” Regulus laughs and shares a grin with Barty and he feels a weight lifting from his shoulders upon seeing they’re back to normal.

“Now that you’ve completed one of your life goals, how is the other one going? I don’t suppose you’ll have much time searching for him when you’re managing a supermarket full time,” Regulus asks.

Evan feels his smile sour a little bit but he shakes off the negativity. “I mean, even someone like Auror Moody has to buy groceries, right? I’ve been thinking about expanding my area and buying new supermarkets as I earn more…” he trails off upon seeing their blank faces.

“Well I’ve got some news too,” Regulus changes the subject, after he blinks confusedly few times. Evan feels exceptionally stupid and grateful at the same time. He pats his mouth with a napkin, crossing his legs and entwining his fingers, tilting his head like he expects them to know what he’s got to say from that.

“If you want to say something, say it,” Barty rolls his eyes, trailing his finger on the sharp side of the knife, causing Evan to twitch, and he forces himself to not grab it from his hands.

He is half afraid he’s going to cut himself and half afraid he’ll throw it to Regulus, from the sudden suspicious shifting of his other friend.

“I’ve moved out,” Regulus mumbles, and Barty slowly puts down the knife, and the tension leaves Evan’s shoulders as a blinding smile crosses his face.

“Good for you mate,” Evan says, patting his shoulder affectionately but it makes Regulus jump with a shriek.

“Is Sirius coming with you?” Barty asks, his eyes still pinched with the grin he’s sporting.

Evan knows everything is about to go to shit from the way Regulus gulps down the last of his wine.

“No,” he says, croaked and high. He clears his throat when they both stare at him blankly.

“Harry is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> edit: okay. i keep eating my own words but my plans have changed. if you're interested in what happens between regulus and barty, i recommend you to see part 3 of this series (M/M) if you're here for the plot, which i'll be continuing here, i'm sorry for misdirecting you when i first posted the chapter. love you all <3
> 
> [short pleasure, long repentance (regulus/barty)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26304331/chapters/64046530)


	8. Chapter 8

Sirius wasn't going to follow Regulus until his first week at his own house was over, but the little bastard gave him no choice.

Ever since they met Bellatrix, he’d been acting strangely. He would’ve thought he was rankled by seeing Bellatrix if he wasn’t there with him and saw how unruffled he was by her and her taunts. 

He is proud of Regulus, both for not letting her intimidate him and for extracting himself from their clique in his head as well that he didn’t take anything Sirius said about the death eaters personally.

It feels like Regulus is the mature one of them, sometimes. And in a lot of ways he is. For one, Regulus doesn’t allow people to get under his skin, or at least doesn’t let it show. Also, he doesn’t start fights just for the sake of it. So, he trusts Regulus to be wise and sensible here, unlike their time in the other world. He grew up, with Evan Rosier by his side of all people. 

But what he doesn’t understand is,  _ why _ , his brother, who pretty much followed him around like a puppy ever since he died, suddenly lost all interest in spending time with him and started to blow him off without any solid excuses. 

He had questioned him secretly at first, probing gently. He thought maybe he had something on his mind he was embarrassed to talk about. Or he’d been hurt by something Sirius said or did. Or maybe he’d started shagging someone. But after a few weeks of pretending to believe him, giving him a chance and time to gather his courage to explain himself, he reached his limits. 

Hence, the stalking.

Regulus walks away with stiff shoulders when he gets up from their table, faking nonchalance to a point that it wouldn’t look right on Regulus any time. 

Regulus is always stressed about something. 

He throws some money on the table and takes off after him, careful to leave some space between them. Regulus starts to run when he turns the corner, taking his phone out of his pocket, to check the clock probably, but he’s clearly out of shape and turns back to walking less than a minute later. 

Sirius frowns in confusion when he takes a left, without even looking around like he’s seen this all before. But it’s definitely not close to Rosier’s market or Crouch’s house and it’s definitely off budget for Regulus, who still doesn’t work to make money, the spoiled kid that he still is. 

His eyes almost pop out of his head when Regulus takes something out of his pockets,  _ keys _ , and unblocks the door, calling “It’s me, Regulus,” to whoever is inside. 

_ Did he get a sugar mummy? Sugar daddy? _

Oh, he’s going to kill Regulus and feed it to Snape if that bloody bastard left him with their parents for this.

No matter how many times he tells himself to not to jump to conclusions, with every second passing,  _ crawling _ , like an hour, Sirius becomes more and more certain.

But Regulus comes out too quickly to have been involved in something like that and with a determined expression, he storms off, proving to Sirius that he  _ can _ run but he chose not to when he was coming here.

Sirius takes off after him but Regulsu is faster than he looks capable of and he’s already out of Sirius’ vision. He looks around in the neighbourhood for a while but to no avail. Regulus is probably across the town if he kept that pace. He decides to turn back to that house and at least figure out who he met, ignoring that he’s acting stranger than Regulus but he can’t afford to lose one more night’s worth of sleep over this.

He finds the house easily enough -it’s far smaller than the others in the street- and knocks on the door. He hears footsteps approaching quickly from inside and also a vaguely familiar voice calling _ “Regulus, you bloody idiot-“ _

Evan Rosier opens the door, his mouth spitting some shit with that voice that has never matched the rest of his body, blinks a few times and shuts the door in Sirius’ face. Sirius, never the one to back down, rings the bell again, once, twice, thrice before he starts to knock his fists on the door, then proceeding to kick the door when his hand starts hurting.

He starts contemplating if he can break the door by shouldering it and decides to risk breaking his bones to find out whatever they’re hiding inside.

Thankfully, Rosier opens the door before he can put it into action, before he causes himself any injuries. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Rosier snarls at him, face red with indignation and panting as if he’d been running around. 

“Need to see Regulus,” he murmurs, trying to decide if he can run past him. 

No, he accepts soon enough. The guy is ripped, quite, even more so than he was at Hogwarts, making his head even more unproportioned to the rest of his body. 

He raises his eyebrows, a smile playing over his lips like he knows what he’s thinking but he couldn’t care less. Sirius wouldn’t have smiled if he thought someone was making fun of his head to body ratio. 

“He’s not here.”

“He gave me this address,” he says, tilting his head and smiling tight lipped. “And he doesn’t pick up his phone. It’s very urgent.”

“Did he, now?”

“Yeah, finally got it out of him today.” 

He shrugs. “He doesn’t pick up my calls either.”

“Can you ask Crouch to try?”

His jaw clenches, eyes tilting up upwards either in exasperation or impatience, or both. He abruptly deflates after that, opening the door wide and beckoning him in. 

“He went to look for Barty actually,” he explains, gesturing to the open door across the hall. “Who knows when they’ll be back.”

“Oh,” he says, realisation dawning on him, along with shame. It must have been whatever he’s having with Crouch that had been bothering him. “He told me you were celebrating you buying the market, so I thought he was here...”

Rosier pauses, and Sirius has to lean his palms on the walls not to walk into his back. Rosier looks like a deer caught in lights, but keeps his eyes on the floor instead of facing the scrutiny of Sirius’ gaze. “Yeah.”

They enter the living room, with some food waiting on the table. And four plates. He squints at the table but it must have looked like longing to Rosier because he awkwardly offers him to sit and eat. 

“No, thank you,” he blurts out, sitting down on the sofa. The thought of eating as Rosier watches him makes his neck itch. “I’ve just eaten.”

Rosier grimaces, his poor attempt at smiling and settles across him, stretching out his legs. He wonders if he should say “Long time no see,” or ask him about his workout schedule but he’s not really curious about either topics, so he keeps quiet, straining to hear anything else that might be happening in the house. They avoid looking at each other, a silent agreement between them, their gazes at anywhere from the carpet to the dining table. 

“Why four plates?” hs asks in the end. 

Rosier turns his gaze back to him and meets his eyes without flinching. “My girlfriend.”

“Oh, yes,” he says, slapping his forehead. “Yeah, Regulus mentioned you moved in with her. Congratulations. Also for the market.” 

“Thank you.”

“Is she here now?” 

“She couldn’t manage.”

Sirius feels sick with pleasantries and taps his chin while he tries to pick between letting them believe he falls for their story or making them trip over their own lies. 

It’s never been a question. 

“So you three live here,” he says, uncrossing his ankles and leaning forward to look him in the eye, knowing he’ll cover up for Regulus no matter what.

“Yes.”

“I don’t understand Regulus was so secretive about this,” he says, letting the sarcasm show.

“Probably he thought you wouldn’t approve of him moving in with me,” he replies, not looking bothered at all. 

Sirius doesn’t think yelling  _ snake _ to his face will earn him any favors but Merlin, he is one. 

Sirius snorts. “Regulus has no qualms about being friends with you,” he dismisses, “he talks about you two all the time.”

“That’s nice,” he says, in a tone that shows he doesn’t actually think so.

Sirius holds back his eye roll and pushes himself to his feet. “I’ll be going then. Doesn’t look like he’ll be back anytime soon.”

“I don’t think so,” he agrees, not making a move to extend his hospitality. Sirius half expects him to let him walk to the door on his own but he trails after him, not even leaving a step between them as if he’s afraid he might snoop, which he would’ve.

“Rosier,” he says, one foot out of the door.

“Yes?” He says, with a smile that borders on painful, his hand on the door like he wants to shut it to his face like he did the first time.

“Reg also told me you moved into the apartment above your market,” he says slowly.

Rosier stares blankly at him before his smile clears off from his face.

“Tell Regulus he has twenty four hours to tell me the truth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been far longer than I originally hoped for but better late than never, right? Hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> (If you want the M version of what happened between Regulus and Barty I recommend you read part 3 of this series, from Regulus’ POV. No spoilers, since you know Regulus lives with Harry if you’ve come this far.)


End file.
